The Ghosts You Can't Escape
by pixiecorn
Summary: Detective William 'Spike' Giles is on the hunt for a psychotic murderer. Reaching a dead end in his case the universe lends out an unlikely hand in the form of Buffy Summers. Buffy is trying to escape her life. A life that involves being able to see ghosts. What happens when her gift is the one thing that can help solve a case that doesn't seem to make any plausible sense.
1. Prologue

Police cars lined the street, their blue and red lights flashing bright in the dark of the night leaving a stream of color reflecting off the walls of the property they sat out the front of. Yellow crime scene tape wrapped around the fences of one small suburban house cutting off any access to the public.

There was a handful of neighbours that had gathered outside, standing just beyond the yellow border. All dressed in their night things with robes and slippers covering their bodies and feet as they waiting for answers, straining their necks just to catch a glimpse of what lay inside the house.

Pulling out a pair of bright blue gloves from his jacket pocket, Detective William 'Spike' Giles ducked underneath the tape that had sectioned off the house. If he heard the neighbours asking him questions he didn't acknowledge or answer them. With his head down he made his way towards the path and the 3 steps that led to the front door.

Another case, another late night.

For Spike this seemed was becoming a frequent occurrence.

He was always the first on call when someone went bump in the middle of the night. Most of the other detectives in the precinct had families, small children and wives.

Spike was alone.

A night owl married to his job.

It had just passed 2:00 AM when the call had come in.

Another murder.

His crime scene unit was a buzz of activity when he first stepped through the doors of the house. He followed the movements towards his people into the lounge-room and immediately saw his partner Charles Gunn standing there.

"What have we got Charlie?"

"Two victims. One male, one female, husband and wife. Both victims sustained blunt force trauma to the head before their throats were cut. Body's moved post-mortem."

Spike silently surveyed the scene in front of him as Gunn tapped away on the tablet in his hands. His own tablet sat in the glove compartment of his car, idle and un-used. He could never figure out how to work the blasted thing. Technology and Spike had a tendency to break rather quickly. Good old pen and paper were his best friend. Solid, reliable. The things you needed in his profession.

Spike pulled a small leather-bound black notepad from his back pocket and flipped through it. This was the third murder case within the last month where a couple had been murdered. All three times the victims had been carefully placed on a couch, both sitting on either end with their hands outstretched.

Fingertips barely touching.

Their throats slit.

"Same MO as the last few killings boss."

"Time of death?"

"We won't know until Fred looks them over."

"How long had they been married?"

Spike glanced at his partner, a sad sigh in his voice. Gunn pressed a few buttons on the tablet he held, typing away for a moment before answering.

"Six months."

Spike glanced at the couple one more time, his eyes lingering on their hands, fingertips barely touching, golden wedding rings shinning in the flash of the camera as his team took photos of the crime scene. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Gunn took a deep breath, absent-mindedly twirling the gold wedding band on his own finger. Spike swallowed, his stomach dropping at the mere thought that his best friend and wife could have been the ones sitting dead on this couch.

He had been on the force for years nearly seven years and made a conscious effort to try to take his own emotions away from a case, staying subjective was hard when cases like this struck a little too close to home.

"I want photos of everything. Bag everything! I want this psycho caught before he kills another person in this bloody town!"

"You want me to notify the next of kin?" Gunn asked, already flipping through the screens of his tablet to find the information of the couple that sat before them. "Spike?"

"Sorry mate, yeah."

The crime scene unit buzzed around them, taking swabs of everything, photos being snapped from every angle and each possible item of evidence being bagged. Spike stayed for nearly an hour surveying the room and investigating further into the house, trying to figure out an access point where the killer could have entered the house but as usual there was nothing.

No finger marks.

Nothing.

Slamming a draw in the office in frustration, Spike sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose feeling a headache coming on.

"We're almost done out here."

"Right."

Spike followed Gunn out of the room, stopping mid step, heart thudding deep in his chest. Seven years on the force and the sight before him never got any easier to witness. Two matching gurney's laid out in the lounge area with matching black bags holding the deceased bodies of the couple within. Two officers lifted the gurney's, their legs clicking into place as they were wheeled from the house.

Two more people taken too early from this world.

With one last look around the room Spike and Gunn followed suit and exited the house, the front door creaking shut behind them. One police officer stepped up and covered the door in crime scene tape before being stopped by Spike as he walked down the small drive.

"I want an officer stationed out the front of this house for twenty-four hours. The killer could come back."

"Yes Sir."

"I'll be at the station if anyone needs me."

"It's nearly 3:00 AM, man. Go home!"

Gunn yelled at Spikes retreating back as he rushed to follow, ducking under the tape surrounding the house and out into the street where Spike had parked his car. The neighbours who had lingered along the border when he had arrived had all but gone, leaving only the direct neighbours behind. One of his officers was finishing up his questions when Spike shouted back.

"Can't do that Charlie! Not while there's a killer on the loose." Spike slipped into his vintage black Desoto and fired up the engine, flashing Gunn a particular look. "Don't forget the coffee this time, mate!"

Kicking his car into reverse, Spike drove off into the night. The blue and red police lights flashing behind him as he left yet another crime scene. Gunn shook his head, packing up his kit and equipment before following in his own car.

Coffee indeed.


	2. Just One Day

**8:30AM**

"Miss? Miss are you alright?"

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Y-yes I'm fine."

Buffy Summers shook off the chills that had suddenly crept up her spine, leaving a flood of goosebumps in their wake. She tried not to let it affect her but she knew all too well what would soon follow, a shudder running through her at the thought. The older woman behind the cash register stared at her quizzically before handing over her coffee and muffin in a brown paper take-away bag.

 _"You think you can be happy with Frank. HA! That cheating bastard doesn't deserve you!"_

"That'll be $10.50."

Buffy tried to ignore the voice to her left, knowing that if she turned her head that she would be able to see a person standing there. A person that no one else could see. She had tried all her life to ignore them, telling herself that they weren't real. Spirits, or ghosts you could call them. To her they looked just like normal everyday people but with one slight difference. They had a blur surrounding them, their image not quite complete. It was as if they were stuck in-between two planes of existence being pulled in two different directions with one foot on either side, not able to take a clear form.

 _"If I can't have you no one can. Baby we were so good together. You deserve so much more than him, Ruthie."_

The spirit of the man moved through the solid counter that separated her from 'Ruthie' as if nothing was there and stood directly next to the older woman. The man was dressed in a simple brown suit and had a rather big gash in his forehead with a few shards of glass sticking out, face bloodied. Buffy tried her hardest to not make eye contact, her voice and hands shaking as she pulled out her purse.

It was always quite confronting to see a spirit in the form they were in when they had died.

"T-thanks."

She wasn't sure if it was the stutter in her voice that gave way to the fact that she could see him or that she was trying her hardest to look anywhere but directly at him. As soon as they linked eyes for the briefest of seconds Buffy knew she was doomed. His eyes widened with excitement and he all but rushed through the counter again to get to her.

 _"Can you see me? Oh my god you can! Go on tell her. Tell her that Frank is a cheating bastard!"_

This was so not happening again. Buffy shook her head, eyes downcast as the spirit glided right in front of her doing her best to act as normal as possible. Well as normal as you could be with a ghost hovering three inches from your face. From this close up she could see that one of his eyes was red and blood-shot from the trauma he had sustained upon his death. It was not a pretty sight.

 _"Tell her! She needs to know. Go on! Tell her!"_

The man tried to grab Buffy's shoulders but seemed to slip straight through her like an icy fog. An instant chill ran through her body, arms freezing up causing her to drop the coins of change Ruthie had given her. If anyone were to ask what it felt like to have a ghost pass through you she would have responded with her best descition. That of a chilly winters day icy breeze. The kind that had your face and limbs tingling withought feeling for a few moments as you adjusted to the cold and then suddenly with a rush, your blood would warm again and you could move once more.

It wasn't the most pleasant feeling she ever experienced but then again here in Sunnydale no one had asked her what it felt like. Here in Sunnydale, she was normal.

Plain little Miss Buffy Summers. Who so did not talk to herself in public when ghosts decided to pay her a visit.

"Leave me alone!" She growled out, dropping to pick up the coins she had spilled. She shot 'Ruthie', who stood behind the counter with her lips in an 'O' an extremely apologetic look before grabbing her take-away bag and morning coffee and running out of the shop as fast as her feet would carry her.

Heart pounding a million miles a minute, she rushed through the streets of Sunnydale to the small shop she owned a few blocks away. Her hands shook as she pulled the keys from her purse, unlocking the shop door and turning the hanging sign to 'Open' before unintentionally slamming it shut behind her in her hastened wake.

"Just one day. I want just one day without ONE of you bothering me!" Pacing back and forth in front of the small counter space, hands still shaking she repeated her mantra. "Not real. They can't touch me. Not real. They can't touch me. Not real..." Buffy took a bite of her muffin, slipping to the floor, hand in her hair as she shook her head in denial. Luckily for her the ghost from the shop had chosen to stay behind and haunt Ruthie and not follow her.

A small blessing but she would take it none the less.

Buffy had been able to see ghosts for as long as she could remember. At first her parents had thought it cute, thinking she was just telling them about all of her imaginary friends. You know how kids can be. But when you are cursed to see ghosts show up in the same form as how they looked when they had died and you start talking about limbs missing and bloodied bullet wounds; your parents start to question your sanity.

Buffy had learnt the hard way to keep things to herself.

Twelve months in a mental institution at the age of fifteen, spending three of those months in isolation after a few disagreements with the orderlys and doped up on as many pills as she could remember. She shuddered at the memory.

Buffy had never forgiven her parents for putting her in that place and as soon as she was able to she had moved out of home and across the state to a small town called Sunnydale. Here, she was able to rebuild herself. Now at the age of twenty-three she was the owner of a small art gallery that also sold old artifacts from all across the world. It was a small business but she had built up her clientele and now had regular customers that used her to import their rare artifacts. She had a handful of close friends who on the weekends frequented the only club in town and who all got together once a month for movie nights at her house.

Life for Buffy was good.

And the best part was that no one knew she could see ghosts.

Back in LA she was a freak of nature that everyone knew had spent a year in the nut house but here she was just plain old Buffy Summers. Over the last few weeks things had started to change. Seeing spirits had gone from being a once or twice a month thing to becoming a regular occurence, seeing them a few times a week and in all different places and forms. Something wasn't right with the ghost world.

"Go away. Go away. Go away."

The chills that seemed to follow her like a clouded fog since the incident in the coffee shop clung to her limbs as she sat on the floor.

"Talking to yourself again, Buff? That's the third time this week!"

"Xander! Hey, I didn't hear you come in."

"I'm here to fix the bell remember?" Xander helped her off the floor. "You feeling ok? You're looking a bit pasty." He laid the back of his hand across her forehead to check her temperature.

"I'm fine. Just a strange morning is all."

"Alright, if you say so. Let's see what we can do about this bell. The Xandman is here to help."

Buffy smiled at her best friends antics as he pulled a few tools from his toolbox and set to work on fixing the small bell and it's mechanism that hung over the shops front door. Xander was one of the first to befriend her after only being in Sunnydale for three weeks. She had bought the shop she stood in now but back then it was a run down little old shop that was in massive need of a little TLC. Xander worked in construction and renovation and she had hired him to help clean up and renovate the shop. The two had clicked instantly and a friendship had formed. He was in a long term relationship with his girlfriend Anya, who Buffy adored. Anya was the kind of woman who said what was on her mind and didn't sugar coat things. Buffy admired her for that.

They had hung out a few times in the shop while Xander worked and it wasn't long before they all got together for coffee outside of their working hours. They had introduced her to their friends, another couple who were absolutely inseparable and practically joined at the hip, Willow and Tara. The two girls were a little bit quirky but quirky Buffy could deal with. They all got on like a house on fire and five years later still remained the best of friends.

Her secret remained locked away.

"We still on for tonight with the gang?" Buffy asked, grabbing her coffee mug from the counter top and walking over to lean on the door frame. Xander stood a few rungs up on a ladder, pulling apart the bell that hung just above.

"Sure thing. Whatcha thinking, fighting ninjas or hulky commandos? Oooo or we could try that new-"

Buffy stopped paying attention to Xander when a cold breath of air puffed out of her lungs even though she had just taken a sip of warm coffee, goosebumps rising on her arms. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a flicker of movement.

 _"I need your help."_

Buffy smiled at Xander and nodded her head, doing her best to ignore the spirit of a woman in her mid forties that had just materialised in the center of her shop. She had just wanted one day alone, knowing that her ghost from earlier staying behind was just a blessing in disguise.

 _"My son is in grave danger. Please! You have to help me!"_

"How about we decide when we're all together?" Buffy held the door open as Xander stepped down from his ladder. Over the years she had done her best to shut them out, becoming better and better at ignoring them so that no one around her noticed the little conversations she would sometimes be appearing to have with herself.

 _"Please."_

He swung the door back and forth a few times testing the bells springs, satisfied with the jingle it made with each click.

"Sounds good to me. Good as new! I would stay and chat but I'm meeting Ahn for breakfast and well, you know how she can get. I'll catcha later Buffsta."

"Bye Xand, thanks again!"

No sooner had the door shut behind him did Buffy turn and face the woman, a scowl on her face. Very much not impressed at being disrupted for the second time that day. The woman was dressed in a long black gown, a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders. Her long sandy blonde was hair down in waves and came almost half way down her back. She looked quite striking and Buffy guessed she was in a nightgown.

At least this spirit had seemed to pass peacefully she surmised with a sad sigh.

 _"Please, you must help him. He is in grave danger!"_

The woman reached out to grab her wrist and Buffy for the first time in her life felt cold nimble fingers wrap around her wrist. Cold fingers with death's icy touch. She gasped, heart stopping . The coffee mug she held in her hand went crashing to the ground, its contents spilling on the floor.

"W-what the hell was that!"

 _"I-I don't know. T-that's never happened before?"_

"Definitely not."


	3. The Big Kind

**9:00AM**

"Spike, man, we've gone over this for hours." Gunn groaned, flopping his head down onto his arms that lay resting on the desk in defeat.

Spike stood staring at the white board in front of him, a slight glare in his eyes. Pictures of each murdered couple were stuck to the board with possible links between them all scattered across it with strings and markers. Papers and clippings of information stuck to the boards left hand side, separated from the couples images, they were leads that seemed to go nowhere. With his arms crossed over his chest he glared at the board with narrowed eyes, as if somehow the information was going to jump out at him if he willed it hard enough. The answers were there he just had to find them.

"He's gotta slip up sometime. We'll get him."

It was a determined statement and they both knew it to be true, but Gunn could see his partners resolve starting to slip. This was the first case they had ever encountered that had taken them this long to crack. No matter what leads they seemed to be chasing after or what evidence they seemed to recover at a crime scene it always seemed to lead to the same outcome. Dead ends.

They were chasing their own tails with nothing in sight.

"Of that I have no doubt, but Spike, man, you need to take a break. Staring at that board for hours on end isn't helping anyone."

Spike took a few steps back and sat down in the chair opposite Gunn in defeat. He knew his partner was right. They had spent all the hours of the morning since leaving the latest crime scene going over possible leads. So far, the only thing each murdered couple had in connection with each other was that fact that they were all recently married and all from Sunnydale. Other than those connecting factors there was nothing. The victims didn't know each other, they didn't live in the same area, hell they didn't even shop in the same area.

Nothing made sense.

Spike and Gunn sat in silence, both staring at the board as they waited for the autopsy's to be completed on both bodies from their recent murder. Quite hopeful that new evidence would arise.

"Fred got anything yet?"

"Not since I rang and asked five minutes ago." Gunn mumbled, head still buried in his arms, eyes closed with exhaustion. What he wouldn't give to still be lying in bed with his wife curled up beside him. Since the murders had become more frequent and it becoming quite clear that they were indeed connected the station had labeled the cases to be those of a serial killer. With Gunn working nearly as much overtime as Spike and coupled with the fact that he and his wife both worked for the same crime unit it felt that the only time he got to see her was when they were both at work. He rolled his eyes as Spike dialed the number off the desk phone to the connecting autopsy department below the station.

Spike wasn't a man known for his patience.

"Anything?"

"Actually I think so."

Gunn's head popped up straight from the desk and met Spike's eyes as his wife's voice came through the loud-speaker. Spike's accent coming on thicker as he got more wrapped up in a case and more sleep deprived as the hours ticked on.

"Wha' is it?"

"Well your killer definitely slipped up this time."

"Wha' kind of slipped up?"

Gunn rose from his chair and downed the last of his lukewarm coffee, eyes wide in anticipation of the information his wife was about to deliver.

"The big kind. The 'left some DNA behind' kind. You are never going to guess what just popped up on my screen."

"We'll be righ' down."

Spike grinned, giving Gunn a pointed look as he slammed down the phone before rushing out the door, Gunn not far behind. They missed hitting a co-worker on the way to the elevator and managed to squeeze through the doors just before they shut.

...

"Morning!"

Winifred 'Fred' Gunn's voice greeted them at the elevator, walking backwards into her small lab that was connected to the autopsy room. Fred was a very chipper and quite welcoming person considering the profession that she was in. Her work space encompassed her personality, her lab walls were covered in bright colored paintings, potted plants with flowers of various size and color scattered in various corners of the room. Fred had a unique way of filling the room up with as much life as she possibly could just to escape the death that she was constantly surrounded by.

"What's the what babe?"

"Charles!"

"What?"

"Wha's the big news, luv?"

Spike couldn't help but chuckle at the couples antics. He had known Fred and Gunn for going on seven years, having been partnered with Gunn when he had started at the station. Fred back then had just started at the station as well. She acted mainly as the Crime Units lab technician and on a few occasions helped out in the morgue. Nowadays though she acted as both positions full-time, this time with help from her own team of lab technicians.

"Right, yes! The reason I called you down here! Well actually you called me, like twelve times within an hour, but that's beside the point. You're down here now and that is because of this!"

She walked swiftly over to a desk that sat along one wall, two computer screens sitting on top. One of the screens had charts and numbers filling it with scientific terms, none of which Spike could read and the other screen showing a picture of a DNA strand.

"Wha' am I looking at, pet?"

"Someones DNA?"

"I know that you berk!"

Spike growled, glaring at Gunn before looking back at Fred. Gunn just laughed, Spike was too easy to goad sometimes.

"It's a woman!"

Both men stared at the screen with the DNA strand blankly before Spike blinked and turned back to face Fred.

"What?"

"Your killer is a woman!" Spike and Gunn stared at her with mouths slightly open, glancing back towards the screens as if to see if they could decipher the scientific codes there. "Mr. Johnstone, your male victim didn't go down without a fight. I found traces of blood underneath his fingernails. Unfortunately it's not enough for me to test who it is exactly, but I can tell you that it is one-hundred percent a woman's. It's also not his wife's DNA."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I also found defensive wounds along his forearms, not like the other victims. It was most likely made from the blade that was used to cut his throat. It's thin, sharp. I-I've got a small list of possible weapons or tools that could have been used, but other than that I'm afraid that's all I've got for you guys. The DNA doesn't match anything in AFIS but I'm still looking."

"Fred, you are amazing!" Spike beamed, eyes wide as he pulled out his phone and dialed a few numbers.

"I knew there was a reason I married you." Gunn tugged on the corners of her white lab coat and pulled her in for a hug, kissing the top of her head.

"Get Wells to meet me at me desk, I wan' him to mock-up a profile on a possible lead. Let me know if anything pops up on AFIS, luv."

"Sure thing."

"Watcha thinking Boss?"

Gunn was already following Spikes footsteps towards the labs exit, tossing his wife a smile before falling into step with his partner.

"We've been looking at this all wrong. Gotta hit the board again to see it from a fresh perspective."

Gunn slowly nodded, pushing the button on the wall to call the elevator back down. Staring at Spike, he raised both eyebrows.

"Right, fresh perspective. Woman goes crazy and starts slicing people's throats."

Fred shook her head and turned back to her screens as the duo retreated back to the elevator behind her. The picture of the DNA strand sat spinning on her screen and with furrowed brows she tapped her chin, a trait she had picked up in Med school when she was stuck on a really hard problem.

Turning around she watched as another large screen that she had linked up to yet another computer behind her shot up image after image of people's faces. They were the faces of all the known criminals in the world whose DNA was in the government's system, AFIS. AFIS stood for 'Automated Fingerprint Identification System' and it was part of Fred's job to run the program when DNA swabs such as the one she had found on Mr. Johnstone were found.

Nine out of ten times AFIS found a perfect match, but with each image popping up after the next Fred wasn't so sure it would this time.

"Who are you mystery woman?"


	4. She's No Black Widow

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?"

Buffy huffed out, standing up from the floor with her hands full of coffee drenched napkins. It had taken her a few moments to shake off the feeling of ice-cold fingers wrapped around her wrist before she could move. Still a bit unnerved and wary over the fact that her ghost had yet to leave her alone, she went to the counter and started to unpack a shipment that had been delivered late the day before. Anything to keep her busy and not thinking about what had just transpired.

 _"What part of grave danger are you not hearing, dear? This is serious!"_

"That is exactly the part that I am listening to! Why on God's name would I rush to help someone who is in grave danger. You're a ghost for Christ sake! You're not even real! This is so not happening to me." Buffy dropped the wooden statue that she held in her hands back into its box, packing peanuts spilling over the edge and onto the countertop. With an exasperated sigh she spun to face her ghost, ready to give her a piece of her mind, but stopped as she met the woman's eyes. She stood with her hands on her hips, her lips set in a firm determined line with a fierce look on her face.

 _"My son is Police Detective William Giles, Sunnydale Crime Unit and if you do not help me he is going to DIE!"_

"There's no need to yell at me!"

Buffy shouted back, eyes widening as through the glass windows of the shop front she saw Mrs. Mackenzie from the store next door stop to stare at her. Mouth open wide in shock.

"A-are you alright dear?"

"Yes I'm fine! Thank you for your concern Mrs. Mackenzie! Ok bye." Buffy turned around and rushed behind the counter, ducking down behind the desks to sit on the floor. "Oh my God!" There was a few moments of silence, her eyes tearing up at the thought of Mrs. Mackenzie seeing her talking to herself.

 _"I'm not going away until you help me."_

"Jesus Christ!" Buffy sat up straight at hearing the voice coming from right in front of her. Sitting on the floor opposite her against the wall was the blurred form of her persistent ghost. The woman crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow, lips still set in a firm line of determination. "You're really not are you." Buffy didn't need a response, she already knew the answer. "Fine! I'll talk to your god damn son if you agree to leave me alone."

 _"There is absolutely no need for such language."_

Her ghost chastised as she stood and dusted off her pants.

"Look lady, I've had a-"

 _"Anne. You may call me Anne."_

"Ok, Anne..." Buffy rubbed a hand down her face, her back to the glass window of the shop front as she spoke. "I've had a rough morning so I would really appreciate it if we kept the talking to a minimum."

 _"That's fine by me but you are still going to have to listen to what I have to say. My son can be quite difficult-"_

Buffy mhh'd her response, grabbing her purse from below the register and fishing out her keys. She flicked the shop lights off, turning the door sign to 'closed' before locking up all the while only half paying attention to Anne as she nattered on about her son.

"God damn ghosts are going to drive me insane."

 _"So it's best if you just repeat everything I just explained and it's sure to make sense."_

"Sure, why not because he is totally going to believe that the ghost of his dead mother decided to pop up in the middle of my store and annoy the living daylights out of me just to save his life. Yup, I would totally believe me too. No worries!"

Buffy all but trudged down the street all the while muttering to herself as Anne floated on behind her.

 _"You really shouldn't slump like that dear, it's bad for your back."_

"What did I just say about keeping talking to a minimum!"

 _"Yes dear."_

...

"Suspect is female, most likely caucasian, age is hard to tell. I'm thinking that she's in her late thirties, this is a tough one guy's. Judging by the precision and the time she has taken to place all of the body's in these particular positions after their deaths indicate that she's smart which comes with age, but there's just something that's not quite right. She's careful, methodical. Takes her time. Why?"

"Why?"

"She's no Black Widow and definitely not a sexual predator. It could be revenge, no, there's no connection between the victims so that's not right."

Spike knew it was pointless to interrupt Andrew Wells when he was in the middle of a profile. Once the boy was on a roll he tended to spout out whatever he was thinking, usually random facts of information until he seemed to find himself a conclusion. Andrew had more degrees than Spike could count, but he was the units best profiler. He had a masters degree in psychology as well as a degree in forensics and had spent the last three years working closely with Fred.

"Black widow is the killer that usually dates or gets close to the victims first, right?"

Gunn was sitting in Spike's chair, watching as Andrew stared at the board with his analytical eyes, pulling information out of the crime scene photos and papers that neither he nor Spike could see. There were certain 'tells' as Andrew liked to call them that spoke to him that helped him form his images of what the killer looked like and helped him form his opinion of who they were as a person.

"Correct. Black Widows will get emotionally close to their victims before they kill them, normally killing for material gain. Which this is not the case here, so, speaking of let's get back on topic."

"Yes, lets."

Spike shot Gunn a look which shouted 'don't interrupt the bloody man.' It had Gunn slumping back in the chair with his arms folded.

"There's no profit of the crime, nothing was taken from the scene. No money. I would say team killing based on some of the information here, but there's no evidence to suggest a second party was involved. Her sanity is definitely up for question though. I don't think your girl is all quite there. None of the cuts to the victims throats have been sloppy so she's experienced with the weapon. Has Winifred sent up the list of possible weapons?" Andrew Wells stood back from the white board that occupied most of the space next to Spikes desk, finger tapping against his forearm as they sat folded across his chest as he spoke.

"Here."

Spike handed over the list of possible weapons Fred had given him hoping that Wells was able to narrow down their large list or possible weapons. Andrew was his best chance of attempting to understand the killer and was a critical part of catching the murderer.

"I'd almost bet money that this stems back to a married man she lost," his eyes skimmed down the page. "or you know, the one she killed first."

"But why?"

"Why? There doesn't need to be a reason. To a psychologically unstable person everything is justified in his or her own way. This one." Andrew pointed out a weapon on the page.

"A surgical knife?" Spike raised an eyebrow.

"It fits the profile. Have you thought of looking into the medical side of things?"

"What like a doctor?"

Gunn sat on the end of his chair, sipping on his third coffee of the morning.

"Doctor, nurse staff, veterinarian, could be anyone. Anyone that would have access to scalpels or blades and know how to use them."

"I'll look into it." Spike nodded, staring down at the papers and pictures of various blades in his hands.

"Your killer has taken the time to make their wounds clean, but inflicting their end result, death, quite quickly." Andrew glanced over the photos that hung clipped up to the white board of the three couples that had been murdered over the last few weeks. "It is strange though."

"What is?" Spike looked up, folding his arms across his chest.

"There's hardly any defensive wounds on the victims. How did she subdue them?"

"There was defensive wounds on the latest male victim. Fred found traces of ketamine in all the victims systems."

"Ketamine?" Andrew was taken back. "That's used in veterinary clinics to knock out animals before surgery. My own Mr. Mittens just went in last week to have-"

"Gunn-"

"Already on it boss." Gunn sat further back into his chair, spinning it towards the desk as he typed away on his computer.

Spike had his phone out of his pocket in record time, dialing Fred who answered on the second ring.

"All six victims had traces of ketaminein their system correct?"

"Different forms and doses of it, yes." She replied slowly, questioning in her voice.

"Is there any chance you can find where they were sourced from?"

"You mean like what brands and where they are used?"

"Exactly, pet." Spike grinned, meeting his partner's eyes who nodded and typed away on the computer.

"Y-yeah I can try."

Spike hung up the phone and turned to Andrew who was already gathering up his papers.

"I'll try to work on a more detailed profile for your killer, there's a few things I want to look into further. I'll get back to you this afternoon."

"Thanks mate."

"Mr Giles?"

Spike spun towards the voice that had walked into his office. Harmony, the stations receptionist stood half in the door and half out, an amused look on her face. Spike forced himself to not roll his eyes at her and her smirking face. He had regretted ever taking her out on a date five years ago and ever since then the bint hadn't let up about trying to get him in the sack again.

"Yes?"

He all but growled out at having been interrupted in the middle of a case.

"There's a young woman here to see you. A miss Buffy Summers. She said it's urgent."

"Bring her in." He flipped the white board around so that it's plain side faced the room. Gunn got up from the desk and left the office, hands laden with the papers he had just printed.

Spike had just sat down behind his desk, minimizing the tabs on the screen that Gunn had opened so that the station's logo flashed as the desktop. It wouldn't do to have the public seeing what was on their computers

"H-hello my name is," Buffy coughed as she stepped further into the office. "Hmm my name is Buffy Summers."

"Pleasure to meet you, luv. I'm Detective Spike Giles. What can I do for you?" Spike reached out and shook her hand before he indicated she take a seat opposite him at his desk.

 _"Oh just look at how handsome he has gotten. Though I could never see why he dyes his hair that absolutely atrocious white colour!"_

Buffy took a few moments to take in the man that was Detective Spike Giles. He wore dark jeans with a grey shirt tucked into his pants, his muscular chest causing the shirt to go taunt. He wore a black suit jacket over his shirt, not a formal jacket, but one slightly more casual. His angular cheekbones were sharp and chiseled against his jaw line, striking, but not as captivating as his bright blue eyes. Eyes that were the brightest blue she had ever seen, being brought out more by his platinum blonde hair. Eyes that were staring at her quizzically.

"Right, yes. The reason I'm here." She let out a nervous laugh.

 _"Go on dear. Just as I explained."_ Anne smiled at Buffy as she stood behind the desk next to Spike, raising one eyebrow in waiting.

"Yes," Spike nodded slowly. "Your urgent matter?"

"R-right." Buffy glanced over his shoulder to his mother and then back to Spikes face. He slowly started to raise one of his own eyebrows in question. "Well that's just downright freaky."

"Excuse me?" He stared at her strangely before trying to follow her line of sight to the empty wall behind him.

"Look this is going to sound completely insane! Quite frankly I've had almost as much as I can take of this whole mess, but hey! Mrs. Mackenzie already probably thinks I'm crazy so why not the whole town. I can see ghosts. The ghost of your mother is standing right behind you and she brought me here to deliver a very important message to you."

 _"Yes that's right. You're in danger."_

"You're going to die."


	5. Well the thing is

"Excuse me!"

 _"What! I said he was in grave danger and WOULD die if you didn't HELP him!"_

"Wait! No! That came out wrong! I told you this wasn't going to work." Buffy glared at Anne.

 _"Not when you deliver it like that! Do you have no finesse."_

Spike hurriedly pushed a few buttons on the phone on his desk before speaking into the intercom, all the while staring at the crazed woman sitting opposite him in his office. "Charlie can you get in here!"

"Sure thing, boss." Gunns voice popped back loud and clear through the speaker.

"I told you that he'd think I was a raving lunatic!"

Spike nodded his head in agreement with the young woman who seemed to be speaking to herself and slowly started to rise from his chair.

 _"Ooooh I've got it! Sing this! It's the song I used to sing to him as a child. Early one morning just as the sun was rising, I heard a young maid sing in the valley below-"_

"No way! I'm not doing that!" Buffy's eyes widened, shooting Anne a look that said 'you're absolutely crazy'.

"Whats up boss?"

Gunn stepped into the office and took in the site before him. The young blonde woman was standing in the middle of Spikes office, staring over Spikes shoulder and talking to the wall. Spike met his eyes and made a few gestures with his hands next to his head, spinning them around in a motion to indicate that the young woman was, in Spikes words, bloody barmy.

"Can you escort Miss Summers here, out of my office and out of the building please."

Spike had one hand behind his back, reaching for the weapon he kept in the back of his pants as Gunn stepped up behind Buffy.

"Yeah..."

Buffy felt the man Detective Giles called Charlie step up behind her, ready to escort her from the building and she knew she had no choice. She sent a glare Anne's way before opening her mouth.

"E-early one morning just as the sun was rising. I-I heard a young maid sing in the valley below..."

At Buffy's pointed look and wide eyes Anne continued the song.

 _"Right, yes. Oh, don't deceive me, oh never leave me. How could you-"_

"Oh, don't deceive me, oh-" Buffy spun around, her hands up in defense as Gunn stepped closer to her as she sung.

 _"How could you use a poor maiden so."_

Buffy almost stumbled over her words as Anne hovered over to stand next to her son, staring at him wistfully as she sang into his ear. Buffy was processing the words as she sang them and stopped mid sentence to drop her hands and stare at Anne.

"Seriously. You sang that to him as a child? No. You know what. I'll go on my own, you don't need to escort me out. Sorry Anne, I tried." Buffy grabbed her purse from the floor, shaking her head at Gunn who had stepped back and stormed from the room, mumbling to herself.

Spike stood there with his mouth slightly open, not believing what he had just witnessed.

"What-" Gunn made a move to sit down opposite Spike who had slumped backwards to lean against his desk. He almost broke out into a laugh, but stopped at seeing his partners face. "the hell was that?"

"I have no bloody idea."

Anne puffed out a breath of air, blowing her ghostly hair from her eyes as she crossed her arms and glared at her son.

 _"Well don't just stand there William. Go after the girl!"_

Spike opened and closed his mouth, no words forming as his mind struggled to put sense to what had happened.

"I'll be right back mate."

He was gone in an instant, leaving Gunn to slide down into the previously occupied chair, confusion covering his face.

"What the hell just happened?"

...

"God damn ghosts. Why can't you all just leave me the hell alone."

 _"Well, you sure stuffed that up didn't you."_

"Great juuuust great." Buffy threw her hands up in the air as Anne's blurry form popped up next to her, gliding along as she hurried her way down the street and as far away from the station as she could get. Buffy was close to tears, having just embarrassed the hell out of herself. Not only did Mrs. Mackenzie probably think she was insane, but now the police crime unit of Sunnydale sure as hell did. It wouldn't be long now until someone came to fetch her for another stint in the loony-bin.

"Miss Summers!"

"Leave me alone, Anne. I can't help your son. He along with his whole damn unit is probably standing back there laughing it up and talking about the new crazy loon in town! God, I'm so stupid."

 _"It was an unfortunate start, but I don't think it's irredeemable."_

"Shyeah, well, I beg to differ." Buffy rounded the corner of the street her shop was on and only got a few steps in before the pounding of shoes on the pavement was heard behind her.

"Miss Summers!"

"Oh god! Please just kill me now." Buffy looked to the sky, desperation on her face. Sending out a silent prayer, wishing that the earth would swallow her whole and spare her the minutes she would have to spend explaining herself to the handsome detective with the captivating blue eyes.

"Miss Summers, please stop."

"It's Buffy." She continued to walk, seeing her shop in the distance. The jogging footsteps fell into place beside her to her left, to her right the glowing form of Anne floating along beside her.

"Buffy, could you please stop. I have a few questions."

"Oh, I bet you do." Buffy half but laughed, fishing her keys out of from her purse.

"Can you just stop walking for five minutes- Oh."

Buffy stopped out the front of her shop and opened the door, gesturing for him to enter, a small smile on her face as she shut the door in Anne's ghostly face. She felt like poking her tongue out at her persistent ghost who just folded her arms in defiance, gliding straight through the door, quite smug with herself. Clearly she wouldn't be gotten rid of as quickly as she had hoped.

"How did you do tha'? Before in my office."

"Yup!" Buffy said, popping the 'P' as she lent back on her shop counter.

"In my office, you sang a song tha' no one and I mean no one but my mother sang to me as a child." Spike's face was a mask of confusion as he spoke, his hands gesturing a lot which was an indicator that he was nervous.

"Look, Detective Giles-" Buffy started.

"Spike."

"Look, Spike, I tried explaining it all before in your office. I can see ghosts. Your mother, who I might add is rather persistent, popped into my store this morning demanding that I go see you and give you an urgent message."

"Right. I'm going to die." He paced back and forth in front of her, rubbing his temples. "Let me just try to wrap my head around this for a mo'."

Buffy nodded, cutting a glare at Anne over his shoulder as she started to open her mouth that said 'Don't even!'

"You can see and talk to ghosts?"

"Yes.

"Ghosts are real?"

"Yes."

"This is the part tha's a bit," Spike sighed and shook his head. "The ghost of my mother came to see you to warm me of my impending death?"

"Yes-"

 _"W-well see... the thing is-"_

Buffy shot up and away from the counter before he could utter another word. He jumped slightly at the movement, her eyes wide, one hand outstretched and a finger pointing to the opposite side of the counter. He couldn't see anything there and from his point of view it looked like she was talking to the cardboard box that sat on her counter. It had a wooden statue poking out of it with packing peanuts spilling onto the counter top around it.

"What! No, 'no the thing is'! You said death! Grave danger and death!" Her eyes seemed to move around the room, following a form he couldn't see. Spike tracked along with her movements before she turned to face him, a glare on her face. A glare that seemed to be shot directly at him and had him taking a step back.

She was a fierce young looking woman who Spike didn't fancy ever getting on the wrong side of.

 _"Y-yes well I may have exaggerated that last part just a little."_ A sheepish look came across Anne's face as she gestured a small amount with her fingers. Buffy growled in response and through her hands up in the air in defeat.

Just posting a quick short chapter before I get flown away for a few days with work. What are your thoughts? Liking where it's going?


	6. A Good Bit Of Drama

"This is exactly why I don't deal with ghost's. Nothing good ever comes from it." She mumbled to herself, fingertips rubbing her temples trying to ease the headache forming there. Anne was standing over Spikes shoulder, hands ringing the edges of her shawl as she tried to look as sheepish and innocent as she could. "You said, and I quote, 'He's in grave danger and if you do not help me he is going to die!' "

 _"He is!"_

"He's a detective for Christs sake! He's always in danger!"

It took him a few moments to realize Buffy wasn't talking to him even though she was pointing at him for the second time that day. He couldn't help but shake off the unsettling thoughts rushing through him over the whole situation. For starters he still wasn't sure that Buffy could actually see ghosts, or believed for one second that ghosts were even real.

Buffy was talking still, facing him front on, but was staring right past him. He coughed before speaking.

"He's standing right here."

Buffy met Spikes eyes and sighed, dropping her head for a few moments before taking a few deep and calming breaths.

"I am really sorry about all of this. Your mother is here and as you've probably already guessed, we're having a bit of a dispute at the moment."

"I can hear tha'." With one eyebrow raised, a slight smile on his face as he spoke. The look he sent Buffy's way had her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink and it was hard to miss the slight smirk that his lips formed knowing that she was embarrassed by his remark.

Buffy met Anne's eyes over Spikes shoulder before speaking.

"I don't like dealing with ghosts. I avoid talking to them if I can, but seeing as she isn't going to go away, I'll do my best to relay her messages."

 _"Correctly this time."_

Buffy rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Yes, correctly this time."

 _"Word for word."_

"Yes, word for word."

"Just one quick question, luv." Spike interrupted, stepping forward. "I though' ghosts, you know.." he made a few gestures with his hands, passing them around the room. "moved on. Went to the other side or whatever it is ghosts do. My mother passed away years ago. Why is she still here? Not tha' I mind having you around Mom, but um-"

"Ghosts typically stay behind due to their unfinished business."

 _"It's the case he's working on."_

Buffy motioned for Spike to join her back towards the counter, further into the shop and away from the big glass windows of the shop front where passers-by could look in. She did so not need another Mrs. Mackenzie incident today.

"Anne said that you being in danger has got to do with the particular case that you're working on at the moment."

 _"It's a ghost."_

"It's a ghost?"

"What?" Spike's face scrunched up in utter disbelief as Buffy spoke the words.

"How is that even possible?" Buffy's face was also a mask of confusion as she met Anne's eyes. Anne hovered through the counter and now stood just behind the register. It was always freaky watching the blurred forms of ghosts just pass straight through solid objects. Buffy sometimes wondered over the amount of places ghosts could get into, lines they didn't have to wait in and copious amounts of information they had access to. The possibilities were endless. Still, not being able to touch or feel ever again, being a ghost had its downsides too.

"No." Spike shook his head, tapping the counter-top, determination in his voice. "People murder other people. Not ghosts, luv."

Buffy shot him a look that read 'do you think I'm stupid' before she started pacing back and forth. She thought back to the last few weeks and all the things that didn't seem to add up, her accounts with ghosts had become more and more frequent. She had started seeing them in the streets and during this past week alone had seen ghosts following their loved ones. The coffee shop ghost from that morning had caused chills like nothing she had ever felt before. Cold flushes were quite common to experience when a ghost was near by, but this. No.

The cold that still clung to her even now as Anne hovered around the room was like winter ice, it's crisp breeze just lightly touching her skin. She had even felt Anne's cold fingers wrap around her wrist earlier that morning. The cold icy grip of death itself.

Something was happening that had never happened before.

 _"S-something is happening. The wall that separates my plane of existence from yours is thinning."_

"That can't be possible."

"What can't?"

"Your mother seems to think that the wall or veil that keeps them, the ghosts and spirits, separate from us is getting thinner."

Spike let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. He thought back to his own morning, where in the earlier hours he had been at a crime scene, looking at two dead murdered victims with his team combing through the evidence. Real life, solid people. People and science were real.

Not ghosts.

"I don' even know if I believe all of this. Come on! Ghosts? Different planes of existence. This is the kind of stuff you read about in novels and watch on the sci-fi channel, luv. Not real life." He muttered a few words under his breath Buffy couldn't hear and shook his head.

Before she could utter a word in response, she felt the cold icy touch of Anne's fingers as they gripped her shoulders. Cold piercing shards seemed to crawl through her body like a snake weaving it way along the ground causing her to stand up straight like a rod, unable to move, her eyes wide. She tried to talk but her breath came out in puffs, fog blowing out with each puff of air like it would if you were out in the snow.

"Buffy? Luv, are you alright?"

"I-I..." She felt a trickle or warmth flowing from her nose and dropping onto her lips. Blood. She saw a flash of images before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she lost consciousness.

 _"Oh bugger!"_

"Buffy!" Spike tried to run forward and catch her before she fell to the ground and smashed her head onto the floor. She fell into his arms in a tangled mass of limbs and hair. "Jesus Christ! She's like ice!" Her body was cold to the touch. He rushed to pull the phone from his back pocket, fingers dialing emergency.

 _"No wait! Call your father!"_

Anne's hand covered her mouth as Spike froze, fingers hovering over the buttons on his phone. Buffy still unconscious in his arms, nosebleed slowing down but not stopping completely.

"M-Mom?"

Spike hadn't heard his mothers voice in nearly ten years and the sound of it had his heart stopping. The room was silent, nothing but the sound of Buffy's slow breaths penetrating the air and the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Slowly, not entirely sure if he had actually heard his mothers voice he scrolled through the contacts list in his phone until his fingers hovered over his father's name.

His mother always did like a good bit of drama.

Buffy was deathly still in his arms, her breath coming in short gasps. He pushed dial and held the phone up to his ear, trapping it between his shoulder and head as he checked Buffy's pulse.

"Hello William-"

"It's Spike. How many times do I have t-"

"I refuse to call you by that blasted name. Your mother gave you a name and I-"

"Look da, sorry to bother you at work but I need your help."

The sound in his sons voice had Giles pausing mid argument, his own voice faltering. It was rare for his son to be calling asking for his help, especially in the middle of the week and nearly the middle of the day.

"Is everything ok?"

"I'm not sure."

"Where are you?"

"Not too far from you actually." Spike glanced out through the shops glass windows and out to the street signs. From the name on the sign he knew that he was indeed only a block away from his fathers shop. "I'll be there soon. Get some blankets."

"Blankets?"

Spike ended the call before his father could continue and placed the phone back in his pocket. He glanced around at the empty store, not exactly knowing what he was looking for but not surprised when he saw and heard nothing. The shop was empty. Besides the paintings, statues and artifacts that were displayed on stands and easels, there was no one else there. He hooked his arms under Buffy's legs, one around her shoulders and scooping her up from the cold hard floor.

She still felt like ice.


	7. REM

Spike huddled Buffy close to his chest as best as he could while struggling to grab a hold of her small bag that sat the counter top. With one hand under her legs holding the bag and the other scooped around her back he made a slight jostle and adjustment before walking towards the door. With his arms full he had to walk through the doorway sideways, his view of the street obstructed, nearly dropping Buffy onto the ground when an elderly woman almost literally ran into them.

"Oh my goodness is she alright? Does she need a doctor?"

"She's fine, just took a small fall and hit her head is all." Spike reassured the woman as he tried to shut the door behind him. It wasn't an easy task with arms full of damsel and hands gripping her bag tight. The elderly lady looked at him suspiciously and he set her straight. "I'm Detective Giles and I'll see she gets home safe and sound."

"Oh, I-I'm Ruth. I own the little cafe down the street just there. I was actually coming to check on her." Ruth helped him shut the door after seeing him struggling.

"Can you get the keys?"

"Poor, dear. You know she has been acting so strange. Then again she is a strange girl." Ruth took the bag from the hand held under Buffy's knees and sorted through the belongings until she pulled out a set of keys. She locked the shop door for him before placing them back in the bag and securing the bags handle over his wrists. "She comes into the shop every now and then." She peered down at Buffy's form with a frown. "You know I hear her talking to herself sometimes. Just this morning she-"

"I really should be going. Make sure she gets looked after."

"Such a strange young woman."

"Y-yes well I'll see her home safe all's the same, Ruth. Thank you for your help with the door, ta."

"You're a kind Detective Mr. Giles."

Spike nodded and starting walking, Buffy still huddled up in his arms as Ruth ducked into the shop next to Buffy's. He could see her in the window with another woman, their judging eyes watching him as she carried Buffy down the street with strange looks on their faces.

He didn't have time to linger or think what they were talking about. Buffy was still out cold.

It took less than ten minutes to walk to his fathers shop from Buffy's. He stood outside the shops front and nearly laughed at the irony of the situation he was now in. The Magic Box's bright flashing sign stood out against the shop window. The windows display was full of ridiculous items and bits and bobs that the realist in him couldn't understand why anyone would want to purchase such things. Crystal displays with rocks of all shapes and colors were laid out over a purple velvet drape with books on aura's and gem stones lining the window front. His father's previous profession had been one of an upstanding and outstanding college professor in London, but ever since they had uprooted their lives and moved across the pond to the states after the death of his mother, things had changed. From the very first day he spent in the small town of Sunnydale he knew things were never going to be the same. His father had thrown away his job and teaching career and decided to 'retire' and become the glorified owner of the small 'magic' store.

He had never really understood his father's decision to stop teaching and go into retail. Spike saw his father once a week for Sunday roast and very rarely did they talk during the week, so it was no surprise that his father had sounded a bit strange earlier. Spike had his job and his father had the shop that was just the way of it.

Buffy moaned in his arms, her brows furrowed in discomfort as he pushed the door open.

The Magic Box indeed.

"William, what on earth-"

"Don't ask Da," he walked straight into the back of the shop where a few book cases blocked the view of Buffy's limp form from public view and he laid her on the small table there. "I don' have any answers."

"Is she alright?" Giles locked his shops front door after checking that no customers were inside before rushing to the back to check on the woman his son had just brought in.

"Did you get the blankets?"

With a nod his father pulled a bundle of blankets out from behind a bookshelf and laid them across Buffy's small frame who had started to shiver, lips turning blue.

"What happened?" Giles reached over the check her pulse, his eyes downcast on the watch he wore around his wrist. He didn't look at Spike, eyes focused on his watch as the seconds hand ticked by as he monitored her heartbeat. All seemed to be in order, her pulse was strong and steady and only then, satisfied she was in no immediate distress, did he glance up at his son who had nothing but worry and concern written on his face.

"It's a long story, one minute we were talking about a case and the next second she just froze, got a nosebleed and then passed out."

"Why did you call me? Why not call an ambulance? The girl clearly needs a doctor, William."

"That's the strange part actually."

"Strange?"

"She's so bloody cold still." Spike rubbed his hands up and down Buffy's blanket covered arms in an attempt to warm her up, whilst also avoiding how to explain to his father that his dead mothers voice told him to.

"Yes."

Spike ignored his father's weirdness for the moment as he stood and stared at the blonde woman on his shops table and pondered of the predicament he was in. Spike brushed a few strands of hair from Buffy's eyes and with a corner of one of the blankets did his best to wipe away the dried blood that was left under her nose and on her lips from the nose bleed she had sustained earlier.

Buffy's eyes moved beneath her closed eyelids and Spike grabbed onto her shoulder attempting to wake her.

"Buffy."

"She's in a REM sleep."

"A what?"

"REM sleep, it's a certain phase in your sleeping pattern. REM stands for rapid eye movement. It's caused by the relaxed muscles in the body, and causes the natural tendency of the sleeper to dream vividly.

Spike stared down at Buffy's face, having removed his hands from her shoulders. Her eyes went from the left to the right, moving rapidly beneath her closed lids as if she was in the throes of a dream.

 _"William, oh my dear boy. What have you done to yourself?"_

 _"I hurt myself Ma."_

 _"I can see that."_

 _"OW!"_

 _"Well what did you expect when you run around the house chasing your father who shouldn't be letting you run in the house in the first place! Rupert, you should know better."_

 _"It was just a spot of fun."_

 _"Well no ones laughing now are they."_

 _"No, OW! Stop that."_

 _"It's going to need stitches. Come on, in the car with you both. We're going to emergency. You know you're lucky you didn't lose your eye, William."_

Buffy had been in a REM state, as his father had explained to him, for way too long. Spike hovered over her face, eyes wrought with concern as her features scrunched up in distress, brows furrowed. A tiny pinch of color had returned to her cheeks, indicating that the blankets were doing their job in warming her up, but she was still cold to the touch.

"Buffy?" Spike ran a hand down her cheek, watching as the muscles relaxed beneath his fingertips. Slowly but surely, her eyes opened. He almost jumped back from his position hovering over her when he felt small cold fingers trace the scar over one eye that covered most of his eyebrow.

"Your mother was so angry at you. You're lucky you didn't lose your eye, William." Buffy coughed and tried to sit up, spell broken as Spike jumped back from the touch, stumbling on his feet as Giles stood with his mouth open in bewilderment.

"Remarkable."


End file.
